


The Reaper

by Tarlan



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Afterlife, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-05-09
Updated: 2004-05-09
Packaged: 2017-10-19 04:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/197110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarlan/pseuds/Tarlan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His dreams of late have been dark and chilling, and he knows it is The Reaper waiting for him in those shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the X-Files Lyric Wheel 'Spooky' Challenge 2004. Lyrics from the challenge are reproduced below without permission.

The dreams had invaded his sleep for months, sending a dark chill into his very soul as he recounted the early days when they had -- almost -- been friends, and could have been much more besides. Still, it was far too late for regrets, not when half a lifetime had passed since the day he watched him die, turning away in disgust when he should have done something, should have felt something more.

Half a lifetime.

Where had the years gone? One moment he had been in the first flush of youth, full of ideas and wanting to make his mark on the world, to take it in his teeth and tear it asunder. In some ways, he had achieved that aim, though the cost had come far higher than any he could have anticipated in those early, heady days. Making his mark had cost the lives of so many of the people he cared about, and thousands more besides, though he knew he could not be held responsible for all those deaths. He had tried to save as many as he could even though that meant sacrificing others.

He stared at his hands as if he could see the blood staining them, almost shocked to see them withered with age with paper-thin, liver-spotted flesh over fragile bone.

He was old now, and that surprised him because he had never truly believed that he would live to a ripe old age, having figured someone like him would be like the candle that burns brightest, flaring incandescently for such a brief time in this world. All his exploits, all the things he had seen and done... all his times had come and now they were gone. Few remained who had any knowledge of those terrible years when the fate of the world hung in the balance. Those surrounding him now listened to his stories of strange times and places with a tiny smile of indulgence, not wanting to accuse him openly of telling fairy tales. It had all been too covert, with lies built upon lies, cover-ups, and public ridicule for anyone who tried to tell the real story.

Perhaps in another hundred years they would find out the truth but by then he would be dust.

In those early days, he had stared into the face of the Reaper without fear, focusing solely on his self-appointed task of saving humanity from the Colonists and their parasitic offspring. When had that changed? When had he started to check the dark shadows in his room for unnatural movement, recalling Dana Scully's report of her tiny glimpse of the one they called The Reaper.

He shivered, pulling the blanket tighter about his thin frame and remembering the strong body he had once possessed...and the equally strong body that he had _wanted_ to possess -- but for all the wrong reasons. Lust, anger, and envy had governed his actions at the time. He had seen him as his nemesis and his betrayer, recalling every blow that went far beyond the physical to bruise his soul.

When his nemesis died, it took a few months for the realization to sink in. Only then had he recognized the loss of his one true love in this life for the world suddenly seemed a darker, lonelier place knowing he no longer existed within it. There would never be another man like him, not one with such a unique blend of intelligence and beauty, with a rapier mind that matched his. Oh, he had met others, had slept the night away in the arms of others but none could compare, and that had been the greatest tragedy of his life. There had been no second chances for them, no time to put the past behind them and seek a future together. The Reaper's scythe had sliced them apart and, unlike the world's greatest lovers; he and his Romeo would never be together in eternity.

All love was lost. All love of life was lost, and yet he had come to fear the Reaper, terrified of falling into the dark abyss of death knowing his one true love would not be waiting for him in the light. Terrified of spending eternity alone, knowing _he_ would share that abyss with him -- somewhere -- just out of reach for all time.

Yet, he was tired of this drab existence, where all the glorious colors of his youth had faded leaving him saddened for what could have been, and for what should have been. They should have been lovers. They should have been together in eternity. They should have shared their passion for life and their desire for the truth in every conceivable way possible. They should have acted on the desire flaring between them and should have trusted enough to take the other's hand and lead him to a glorious union of flesh and mind where the love of two is one.

For the first time in all those long years, he let the images flow. He let the fantasies take root in his heart and soul, filling him with an uncontrollable need for the moments of madness that should have been theirs. Their bodies should have burned together in lust and love, finding completion as their souls entwined inextricably.

He shuddered as the wind began to howl outside, lost in his memories as it pushed at the shabby door. It creaked open and the wind swept into the room, rippling the curtains and extinguishing the candle lights one by one until only the light of a blood red moon remained.

He swallowed hard as the dark shadow by the doorway moved with hidden purpose, growing longer as it reached with long dark inky fingers into the room towards him. Part of him recoiled in fear even as his mind continued to play out the last moments of his one true love's life, and the revulsion that had filled him when he became an unwilling audience to that end.

Yet, all memory of his hurt and of his revulsion had faded over the years. Instead, he could recall only the perfection of pale-golden skin, of lean legs that should have been wrapped around his own, of the firm ass that he should have been plunging into, possessing every inch of the solid, warm flesh before it could cool with death.

Every detail came back to him now as he remembered standing on the threshold, watching the pages of the grimy sex magazine flutter in the slight breeze through the doorway, while the man he loved courted death in exchange for one brief moment of solitary ecstasy.

With a strangled cry of fear and regret, he wished he had ripped the cord from around his throat, breathing life back into the slowly asphyxiating body instead of turning away in disgust and walking out. He would have lived. _They_ would have lived.

"Mulder," he cried out in misery and loss, almost hating himself for his anguish and despair. After all, this man had abandoned him to his fate in Silo 1013, had let him fall into the hands of peasants in Tunguska. This was the man who had stood by while Skinner shot him in the head, barely glancing back at his fallen body as he raced away to save Scully. Always Scully. Forever Scully.

He had survived, but only because one of the many Jeremiahs had been waiting in the shadows of that parking lot, bringing him back to life while Skinner left to report the _incident_. This Jeremiah had spirited him away to continue with his work within the human resistance, and he had devoted the next few years of his life in destroying the Colonist plans, bringing about the end of their world rather than the end of humanity.

How he wished he had forced the issue between them before it came to that dark night when he had stepped into Mulder's apartment, uninvited, only to find Mulder too caught up in autoerotic asphyxiation to register his presence. Perhaps if he had stayed. Perhaps if he had stopped Mulder then he would not have had to live with the regret from knowing Mulder had died that night. Scully had found his body the next day after he failed to show for work.

"If only I could have those 30 seconds to live again," he sobbed weakly. "If only I could tell you how much I wanted you, how much I needed and wanted you."

...and the dark shadow took human form.

"Alex?" It stepped out of the darkness and into the shaft of blood-red moonlight.

"Mulder?"

The full lower lip was the same, as were the smoldering chameleon eyes that caught his. He remembered this Mulder from the early days, while they had both been so young and full of life and ideology. A time before Cancer Man, before Hong Kong and Tunguska. A time before that fateful day, when Mulder destroyed any hopes Alex had of reconciling with him as he turned away as Skinner took his life.

"I've been waiting for you, Alex. Watching you from the shadows for decades, waiting to hear you call my name."

Alex shrank back against the chair, drawing the blanket tighter still around his frail shoulders.

"Don't be afraid. I know everything now. I found all the truth I'd been searching for...and I'm never gonna hurt you again." Mulder reached out to him. "Come on, baby. Take my hand."

Alex stared into the handsome face and knew this was no delusion. This was Mulder, his Mulder and in the stormy hazel eyes, Alex could see the truth that had taken Mulder unto death to realize. They belonged to each other.

Alex reached for the hand, allowing this apparition of Mulder to draw him from his seat. His body felt young again, invigorated, full of light and energy.

"We'll be able to fly...together this time...forever." Mulder grinned that half-cocky familiar smile that had caught at his breath and inflamed his senses from the first, drawing him beneath the protective cloak of darkness enshrouding him. His feet left the ground as they began to fly towards the doorway. Alex paused on the threshold, turning back to say goodbye to the deathly still, elderly figure that had once housed his soul. He glanced sideways at the man holding his hand. He had become like Mulder, a wraith or an angel, who knew?

"Thought you were The Reaper," he said softly, trying to explain why he had cowered from the dark shadows in his room these past decades.

Mulder smiled broadly, "Whoever said The Reaper was just the one guy?" He leaned in to kiss Alex in the way Alex had always wanted Mulder to kiss him. Alex sighed as those full lips possessed him deeply, melting into him and joining their souls completely, and for eternity.

THE END

 _DON'T FEAR THE REAPER  
Blue Oyster Cult_

 _All our times have come  
Here but now they're gone   
Seasons don't fear the reaper   
Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain...we can be like they are   
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper   
Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper   
We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper   
Baby I'm your man... _

_Valentine is done  
Here but now they're gone   
Romeo and Juliet   
Are together in eternity...Romeo and Juliet   
40,000 men and women everyday...Like Romeo and Juliet   
40,000 men and women everyday...Redefine happiness   
Another 40,000 coming everyday...We can be like they are   
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper   
Baby take my hand...don't fear the reaper   
We'll be able to fly...don't fear the reaper   
Baby I'm your man... _

_Love of two is one  
Here but now they're gone   
Came the last night of sadness   
And it was clear she couldn't go on   
Then the door was open and the wind appeared   
The candles blew then disappeared   
The curtains flew then he appeared...saying don't be afraid   
Come on baby...and she had no fear   
And she ran to him...then they started to fly   
They looked backward and said goodbye...she had become like they are   
She had taken his hand...she had become like they are   
Come on baby...don't fear the reaper_


End file.
